Hallelujah
by Veritas Silvertongue Lupin
Summary: Ever wonder how Peter spent his time, the night the Potter's died?


Well hi guys! This is my first fanfiction on this website, so I hope it does okay! I don't own anything. JK owns the characters, Leonard Cohen owns the song. I am making no profit from this! So, here it is!

_I heard there was a secret cord,_

_That David played and it please the Lord,_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

The night was empty. Empty of stars, empty of sound, empty of life. The world was cruel and unfeeling tonight. It had no love to spare, no hope. There was nothing. Nothing to live for anymore. What heartless sort of creature could've caused this? What horrible person could've destroyed their lives? It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. There were no other words to describe it. What monster could've done this?

The door creaked as he tugged on the handle. And there, before his very eyes, was James.

Dead.

He went ridgid in the doorway, the figure who had been brave enough to tread there. After everything he had done, he should've had the sense to stay away from here. From them, who had put so much faith into him. He kneeled down next to James, his robes squishing underneath him, wet from rain. Lightning flashed through the window, and it revealed that James, when laid in such a positsion, could've been sleeping. His hair was mussed, just like he always liked it. James Potter didn't look like he had fought the Dark Lord. He looked...

Happy.

A choking noise rose from the figure's throat, and very slowly, he pulled off his deatheater's mask. A wave of dirty, golden hair, was brushed back away from a gaunt face, with sunken grey eyes. And these eyes, the eyes of Peter Pettigrew, were overflowing with tears.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. James, who had always been so strong, so proud, so thick headed and stubborn, was gone. Another flash of lightning lit the room, and Peter could see that in the Living Room, James' wand still lay on the couch, as if he had just forgotten it. He hadn't even had a chance to defend himself.

Peter put his face in his hands. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Peter had given up everything. The Dark Lord had promised him wealth, power, and love from the ones who never saw him clearly. He promised Peter respect. It had been so appealing, so appetizing... But that was Lord Voldemort's job, wasn't it? To make things seem wonderful, seem perfect and brilliant. Now the Dark Lord was gone, and what did he leave Peter? Two dead friends.

Lily. Peter's sobs grew harsher as he thought of her. She was next. She was the one old Snivelus had wanted saved. But Peter knew better. If Harry had survived, that ment all the other Potters were dead. And that included, as Peter once knew her, Lily Evans.

The stairway was covered with rubble as Peter climbed up the second story. It seemed there had been some sort of explosion when the killing curse backfired. Peter tried to rub away the tears from his face, preparing himself for what he was about to see. Lily Potter, pretty, beautiful Lily Potter, laying on the floor, as a corpse. Her red hair would be draped over the side of her face, like a curtain. And those green eyes, those emerald orbs would be open and unseeing.

When Peter climbed the last step, he was suprised that Lily did not look peacful like James. Her face was contorted, as if she had spent her last minutes screaming. Her hair was splayed out behind her like a fan. Her legs were crumpled beneath her body, which was twisted into a hunched over positsion. One of her hands lay on her chest, while the other reached for the crib in the far corner of the room. And in that crib, was the one person who had caused all of Peter's problems in the first place.

Harry Potter lay asleep in that crib, not knowing or caring that his parents were dead. He didn't know that their parent's friend had brought upon their death. He didn't know that he would be famous, for he had brought on the death of the Darkest Wizard of all time. He didn't know anything. He was just a baby. Peter's insides squirmed as he stared at the child. That mop of dark hair came from James, and underneath those eyelids was a sea of green, from Lily. But that scar came from niether of his parents. That was something he would keep forever. That was his gift for defeating the Dark Lord. A scar.

_It goes like this,_

_The fourth the fith,_

_The minor fall the major lift,_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

Rage welled up inside Peter as he glowered at the boy. It was his fault! If Harry Potter hadn't been born, Lily and James wouldn't have forgotten him! If Harry Potter hadn't been born, Peter wouldn't have faded away from his friends! If Harry Potter hadn't been born, Peter wouldn't have gone to Voldemort. If Harry hadn't been born...James and Lily wouldn't be dead. They would be alive, and it would've been like good old times, with Sirius and Remus too.

Peter felt a pang of guilt. He went back over to stand by Lily. And then, he let the sobbing heart wrenching tears fall. The Death Eater crumbled to his knees over the redhead's body.

James and Lily were dead. Sirius was going to Azkaban. Peter couldn't explain what he did. He panicked. He couldn't go to Azkaban. He just couldn't! He would die in there! But Sirius was strong, Sirius was able. He would survive. That was all that had gone through Peter's head. When Sirius cornered Peter on his front steps, Peter had no choice. He killed the muggles, cut off his finger, and ran. And now, Sirius was going to be locked up forever. He could run for a little, but not for long.

And if Sirius went to Azkaban, that ment Remus would be alone for good. They all gave excuses tonight, why they couldn't attend the full moon with him. James wanted to help Lily. Harry had been known for throwing moody tantrums, and he figured she needed some help. Sirius said he had a date with Marlene McKinnon. Peter said he was going out of town. Remus Lupin had yet to know that three of his friends were dead, and one was going to Azkaban for it. Since Peter had faked his death, he could never go see Remus, and never explain to the man what had really happened. He could never beg for forgiveness that he wouldn't get. Peter knew Remus. Remus would either kill him on the spot with rage in those sapphire eyes, or he would run a hand through his mousy brown hair as Peter was carted off to Azkaban. There was no winning with him.

Peter looked up, rage and pain and agony contorting his face. He needed to leave, he needed to go. He couldn't stay here for another moment. He couldn't say sorry for what he had done, so what was the point in being here? To pretend he didn't mean to have them killed? To pretend he had been with them from the start?

Peter stumbled as he stood up, wiping his face with his robe sleeve. He knew why he had come here. He had come to finish a job. So, very slowly, Peter raised his wand, and pointed it at Harry. This was it. Peter had been loyal to the Dark Lord. As his servant, it was his duty to finish this unfinished deed. He had to. He needed to. It would prove that Peter hadn't joined the wrong side, that he hadn't messed up. It would prove that Peter had been right, and that James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus had been wrong. If Harry Potter died, all things would be settled.

Peter's wand arm trembled.

Seconds ticked by.

_Do it. You have to do it. You have to. It was His job, and he couldn't finish it. If you kill him, you'll be welcomed back like a hero. Do it Peter. It's just one baby. It's their baby. You can't bring them back now, so just do it. Get it over with._

_You have no choice, Peter. You made that decision a long time ago. You called Dumbledore an old geezer. You joined a new crowd. James, Lily, Sirius and Remus joined the Order. You joined the Death Eaters. No one would believe you if you said you were under the imperius curse. This is it. This is how it has to be..._

**"Avada-"**

Peter jumped as he heard the roar of an engine from somewhere down below. He walked over to the window, and saw that down by the hedge, was Hagrid the Gamekeeper from Hogwarts. He was riding...no. Could it be? Sirius's old flying motorbike? The Gamekeeper dismounted, and made his way toward the door.

Without a second thought, Peter waved his wand. He vanished with a pop, just as a voice down below exclaimed, "Bloody doorway. You'd think they'd make 'em bigger for some folk like me..."

_Hallelujah,_

_Hallelujah,_

_Hallelujah,_

_Hallelujah_


End file.
